


In two years time

by Gabriel_Sammys_Angel



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cutting, Depressed Tony Stark, Depression, Just a WIP that I had on my laptop for some time, Sad Tony, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, depressed, i dont know where to take this, self hate, trigger warning, tw cutting, tw depression, tw self harm, tw suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-11-08 22:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabriel_Sammys_Angel/pseuds/Gabriel_Sammys_Angel
Summary: In two years time wounds should be able to heal and cracks patched up, right? But what if those two years had only worsened everything?He was so very angry and – with a loud crashing sound like breaking glass that filled the quiet room, the mirror broke into tiny little shreds and the blood started running down his arm.Oh fuck was this good. He could see the blood again, could feel the pain again oh how he had missed the sweet pain.





	1. Here we go again

**Author's Note:**

> Hello loves,  
> please do not read this if it would trigger you into harmful behaviour. If anyone needs to talk, I am here.  
> Also I am aware that in this short WIP a lot of words and sentences get repeated, this is no poor writing style but simply a syol to show how Tonys thoughts are. He is definitely not in a good headspace.  
> TW: self harm, self hate, self destructiveness, just sad and depressed Tony Stark. See the end of this for more notes.

He had tried to keep it all in all to himself and that over the course of the past two years. Skilled to fool everyone that he was at least /okay/. Even those he was close to. Those who knew him good, those who knew him by heart. By the heart he had kept hidden for so long and even now was not wearing on his sleeve, just so no one would hurt him. The person who came the closest to have his full trust, to have his whole heart would happen to be Pepper. But even her he had kept fooled. All of those who cared about him and tried to see past his facades he had managed to play. Just for the sake of looking stronger than he really was.

But had he really tried to fake being okay? Or had he been okay? The feeling of something being wrong only made up by his brain In order for him to throw a pity party for himself once again? What was true and what was his own lies, mingling their way into his head and brain, fogging it up to leave him less and less. To make him weaker and more vulnerable, to make him believe that he was the bad guy and deserved to feel the way he did.   
The trauma and abuse of his past left him to believe it was all his mind once again. Accusing himself of being a “dramatic little bitch” and not worth the attention he would get once he said out laid he would not feel all too good, mentally speaking. But not all too good was a point where Tony Stark admitted that it had become unbearable on his own, never one to take painkillers to prevent the pain, not even when the pain already had settled into his bones and veins. Only once it became unbearable and made him unable to function other than with a painkiller. A headache was only to be mentioned or to be cued once his head was pounding like someone was hitting him repeatedly and white flashes of pain danced before his eyes, making him unable to see or move. Only then, he allowed himself to admit that he needed a chemical substance to aid him. Only then he would replto a question about his well being that he had a headache, only then and never before. The same scheme played out for all kind of pains Tony Stark suffered through, mentally and physically alike.

Although deep down he knew this was not true. It was not his mind, it was not his own brain playing tricks on him, no it was the way he really felt. It was the way he felt when he was alone, breaking down and crumbling. It WAS how he felt when everyone left him and he was on his own, left alone with all these dark thoughts he actually and really had.   
But he had pushed them away for the past two years, as good as he could. The two or three times he had cut himself- they did not count. It only was one or two after all, nothing deep only so he was able to see the blood again, to feel the familiar burn on his wrists again but no- it did not count as relapse. He had been okay these past two years and he was such a fuck up for breaking like this now again, now that everything should be okay.   
Now when everyone was there for him. Now when he had real friends, now when the world was save he should be too, should he not?  
But he had acted like he was okay all the time out of worry that others might be concern by the behaviour he showed no one but himself, pathetic was it not? No , not pathetic but oh so broken. Broken? This sentence did not make any sense and Tony frowned at his own reflection. He did not remember walking into the bathroom.. he did not remember it- It was starting all over again.. This was not good- he could not simply forget things that was not normal. How long had he been standing there? Only mere seconds, minutes? Hours? He did not remember. And this was a very bad sign, the loss of memory meant he was getting somewhat apathetic again, he could not afford that..

The familiar blue glow of his arc reactor was missing and Tony frowned, glancing down at his chest. This was when he realized this had to be a dream, the arc reactor was missi- he had it operated out of him by professionals after Pepper had been cured of extremis, right.   
Two years ago.

Tony Stark was not delusional and he usually did not forget things that happened in the last two years but his current mindset was fragile enough to go back to the point in his life where he had been bad, so bad that everyone was worried and god how he had hated it. How he still felt sorry for making all of them worry- he did not deserve their worry- that was why he was desperately trying too make himself believe that he was okay – he was still okay all fine and dandy, nothing would happen- he was Tony Stark, one of the bravest man known in American history and- he was oh so very broken. 

His thoughts could not rest, his mind was working, thoughts spiraling inside him, hands getting twitchy, thumbs rubbing over the back of his hands. He wanted to get out alive- he wanted to get out of this situation, or did he wanna die? 

He had to run! He had to- He suddenly felt like he had to run away from all of this, from the circumstance he was in,the environment he had to deal with. And that all by himself because of those goddamn walls the man had built around his heart and head. Like a grip of iron they had him- those self destructive thoughts kept him prisoner.  
He was afraid of himself, feeling a strong desire to run away from all of this in order to get out alive. Fuck, he cursed out loud as he realized he did not know how to escape this. How would you manage to run away from yourself?!   
Tony did not know. His thoughts were a mess. He could not focus enough on even one of them, swirling around in his head, making no sense. Resulting in no coherent thought at all, everything was in a blur only leading to even more confusion and despair.

And suddenly anger was filling him up like it was the only thing the man had ever known. He was more angry than ever before, at least how he recalled it right now.   
He was more angry than he had been at the terrorists back in Afghanistan, he was more mad right now than he had ever been with Steve Rogers he- he was losing his thoughts again. Had he ever sorted them?  
He was so very angry and – with a loud crashing sound like breaking glass that filled the quiet room, the mirror broke into tiny little shreds and the blood started running down his arm.   
Oh fuck was this good. He could see the blood again, could feel the pain again oh how he had missed the sweet pain. There was nothing quite like the pain of hurting yourself, of cutting yourself or burning yourself with the intention to actually make it hurt.   
Battle scars were something entirely different and they could never bring the same feeling, this..calmness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Self harm, cutting, self hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the Long delay. The chapter ahead is short and dark and full of self harm. Please do not trigger yourself. If you Need someone to talk to hit me up on TUMBLR: darkgalaxywarlock
> 
> Or in the comments!

He should tell someone, he knew that. Of course he knew, he always knew when something was starting to be wrong with his brain again when his thoughts started to get all sorts of messed up again and he could not separate good from bad. But right now he felt no actual desire to tell someone - anyone. Not even his bots ,who could not do a single thing. Not even JARVIS who- no. Ultron- Friday... Vision...   
He shock his head as he tried to clear it, clear his thoughts so they would not be lost in the fog inside his head. Right, J was not there anymore, neither the flesh version nor the artificial intelligence. And it was alright, he could deal with this.   
The tears that started to stream down his face were something he could not deal with, upon notice, that is, good that he had not yet. Warm blood was trickling down his skin, down his arms and dripping to the floor as he lifted his hand full of glass shreds. He could... should he...? And once again no thought managed to be thought through as all of them seemed to overwhelm him, robbing him off of the choices he had, stealing his free will to act responsible and before he could do anything against it he had already picked up a big shred, one that looked sharp and had a small curve to it.

Tony knew that this was anything but alright but right now he did not care, why should he.  
With no sound being made he used the sharp tool to cut through the skin on his left wrist, not deep, not long, nothing. But it was enough to pierce through the skin just the slightest bit, to cause a drop of blood or two. And instead of having a calming effect like it used to, used to bring to him years ago.. it made him panic.  
It was not enough. It didn't hurt enough, didn't sting enough, there was not enough evidence, it .. there was not enough blood, not enough damage done.   
This was the bottom line, the courtesy call but he could not act on it, a man as powerful as Tony Stark, not able to pull the last string on the lifeline- He could not get help because in the end everyone is victim to their own mind.

His thoughts finally came to a halt when the blade ran through his skin, cutting it open and leaving small red marks, filling up with blood.   
Now he was cutting deeper, dragging the blade through the white skin on his arms, feeling how the knife cut through it as if it was as thin as paper, slicing the skin open, tearing it apart and letting the cut fill with blood that soon started to drip over his wrist, coating it with much more blood than before. The pain was sharp and clear and there was nothing else he could focus on now, it was so good, it made him forget. Tony did it again, even deeper now, tearing the skin apart, and a fifth time- now he stopped, he was breathing calm and slow, as if he had just had the most relaxing bath ever, as if he had not just sliced his wrists open. 

At first they were small and would not scar, they were not deep enough to do so. But he increased the pressure in a steady manner and soon he was actually cutting his skin, slicing it open and leaving deep, gaping wounds caused by a glass shred, the blood covering his left arm and wrist, he was leaving the arteries out though, not because he was a coward but because if he intended to kill himself he would do it differently, this was for harm and harm alone. The only purpose of this was to stop his racing thoughts, to help him come down, to lose himself- to come undone.

And while he was kneeling there, in a puddle of shreds and drops of blood his thoughts began to race again, this had been short lived and his brain was starting to quote an article he had read about self harm once:

The relief that comes from cutting or self-harming is only temporary and creates far more problems than it solves.  
Relief from cutting or self-harm is short lived, and is quickly followed by other feelings like shame and guilt. Meanwhile, it keeps you from learning more effective strategies for feeling better.  
Keeping the secret of self-harm is difficult and lonely. Maybe you feel ashamed or maybe you just think that no one would understand. But hiding who you are and what you feel is a heavy burden. Ultimately, the secrecy and guilt affects your relationships with friends and family members and how you feel about yourself.  
You can hurt yourself badly, even if you don’t mean to. It’s easy to end up with an infected wound or misjudge the depth of a cut, especially if you’re also using drugs or alcohol.You’re at risk for bigger problems down the line. If you don’t learn other ways to deal with emotional pain, you increase your risk of major depression, drug and alcohol addiction, and suicide.   
Self-harm can become addictive. It may start off as an impulse or something you do to feel more in control, but soon it feels like the cutting or self-harming is controlling you.   
It often turns into a compulsive behavior that seems impossible to stop.  
The bottom line is that cutting and self-harm won’t help you with the issues that made you want to hurt yourself in the first place. No matter how lonely, worthless, or trapped you may be feeling right now, there are many other, more effective ways to overcome the underlying issues that drive your self-harm.  
His brain would not shut up, he started to scream, hands pressed to his ears, blood curling screams making their way out of his throat until he was raw and out of breath. No one had come to his help, no one would come and he knew it... everyone was busy with themselves-  
“no..” he whispered to himself as he sank to the floor, curling up in his own blood and the mirror shreds. This was not true.   
“They don't need you,” he mumbled, “no one needs you, Stark. No one wants you and ...” this was were his voice died and he just let his brown eyes slip close, whiskey colored eyes so sad and full of misery...

Unknown to him someone had heard and was already running towards his lab, worry on their face and fear of what had happened in the back of the person´s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, the next chapter will be a little brighter, I promise.


	3. Whiskey coloured eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self harm mentioned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this is really short and I could have written a lot more, but it feels right to leave it like that. (Although my word Limit is at 1000+ for every chapter for this but shhh)

Shakespeare once said that eyes are the window to the soul, that through them you could see what another person feels, feel what another person sees. But when Pepper met Tony´s eyes through the glass that separated the floor from the lab, all she wanted to do was scream. Scream out all the agony those eyes held, all the pain he had to feel, all the hate for himself that he had held together so tightly all buried inside. And now that the man finally reached a breaking point, she could do nothing but watch. She had heard him scream, and a pang of panic had come over her as well. It was not unusual that Tony hurt himself while he was working, it was common, really. But this time it had been a conscience that she was on his floor and on her way to his lab, a cup of coffee and a sandwich in her hands, smiling to herself. Pepper knew that the man was overworking himself and that he needed a break. Of course there was no sense in ushering him out of the lab until he had finished the project he was working on or at least reached a point where he could leave it be for a few minutes. But she could bring something to him. The mug dropped out of her hand and the sandwich fell to the floor, soaking the coffee up but she did not notice. This did not sound like pain. Not the way you would scream if you bumped into something or stubbed your toe, not even if you were falling from a building during an attack. No, this scream sounded blood curling and in agony, a personal hell someone was trying to escape. And so she ran.

There were no words spoken once she had pushed the door open and knelt beside him. The intention of the gaping wounds on his arm were clear to her and she calmly started to wipe away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt, taking a closer look to the damage. They were not as deep as she had feared, some would scare, some probably would not. Pepper was not sure why she was so calm, she felt like she was about to freak out, about to scream and cry and ask him if he lost his mind. But the answer to her question was what she feared, to look into those sad, whiskey coloured eyes and her the softest “yes” he could give her, because deep down she knew he would. 

With quick steps she made it over to the first aid kit, took an old cup and washed it out, only to fill it with water and walk back to him. And while she worked on cleaning the cuts out with water, disinfecting it so he would not get a blood poisoning and no infection she stayed silent but forced herself to give him a warm smile when he flinched as she started to bandage his arm.   
Tony did not say a word, he could not. There was nothing on his mind worth saying, thoughts anything but still but not coherent enough to be spoken out loud. His breathing came ragged and only then he noticed he was crying, the hot tears streaming down his cheeks and running down his neck, occasionally dripping onto his shirt. Despite his crying there was no sound to be hears as he watched the red head work on aiding him. 

Once Pepper was done she gently placed his arm in his lap and got up, careful of the glass shreds. It was a miracle that she had not stepped in one or slit herself on accident. As she extended her hand for him to take she was the guilt and shame in his eyes and it made her heart break. How often had he done this to himself? Could she really know? There were many other forms of self harm as well and who could really tell if the inventor did not do everything to hurt himself. The lack of sleep, neglecting to eat, only drinking coffee- who could tell? And by the looks of it not even Tony could.  
It took her all her willpower to give the hurt and lost man yet another warm smile, encouraging him to take her hand and when he finally did she slowly pulled him up, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug.

Whiskey coloured eyes slipped close, tears still streaming out of them as he practically melted into the touch. At first he had wanted to shy away because it had been too much but now he pressed into it, head against her shoulder and arms around her tightly. “Help me,” he finally broke the silence, lost and hurt and scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please reach out for help if you need to.


	4. I will keep you alive if you show me the way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another really short one sorry-

They stood there like this for at least half an hour but Pepper had lost any sense of time and she was almost certain that Tony had too. And while they stood there like this, in each other´s arms she started to think about what she had just witnessed, not sure how to cope with this. Of course she would not let him know, not right in this moment. Not in this moment where he needed her more than she needed him. And so she decided to be strong for him.

The shaking had started up about ten minutes into their embrace, and had only now stopped. Tony had not even realized until this moment that he had started to shake like a leaf in the wind of a cold November night. He did not want to be this weak, had not intended for anyone to know this. This was not a call for help and yet she had answered and part of him was relieved that someone had. Maybe it was a call for help, if he really thought about that he had to admit that to himself. After all no one slit their arms without the need for help, for anyone to care. And of course Pepper always did care about him but this was different. Tony had been breaking for the past two years, piece after piece was slowly crumbling from his already shattered mind, keeping him lost in his head more and more at every passing day. Sure, he had hurt himself before, had inflicted pain upon himself with the intend to do so and with other little gestures.  
The sleep deprivation was not always because he was too busy to sleep, no he often kept himself too busy to sleep, too occupied to think about anything else than his work, his little inventions, his tinkering. It had always been the little gestures.

Too much coffee to make his stomach coil and ache, too many cigarettes that he smoked even though his heart and lungs were strained and engrossed enough as it is, even without the ARC reactor in his chest it had left a permanent impact on his lungs and also his heart. He did not care though. The lack of sleep, the lack of a proper eating schedule, the carelessness when he was working alone in his workshop... not wearing the proper gear to tinker safely.

But all of this came to a halt now, he could finally breathe, not fully yet but at least a little better than before, pressing into Pepper´s arms one last time before he pulled away, eyes cast down.

Pepper frowned at that but then ave him a small smile as she used her left hand to title his head up. “It´s okay Tony, you are okay.” And for a second he could believe it. All of him wanted to scream “Help me.” But he already had done that with the gesture before, with the self harm and it was obvious, the evidence too clear to be ignored. “I will help you.” She promised, certainty in her eyes, a certainty that helped to ground him.  
“You will be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave any ideas, suggestions or something similiar. It means a lot to me.


	5. Like ash in the wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And just like ash in the wind he seemed to falter and all his thoughts seemed to wither away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to everyone who is still reading this, it means a lot to me!   
> I have decided to take this on a platonic turn and not a romantic- sorry for everyone who ships Pepperony BUT I do have my reasons. Bear with me and I will explain (even if shortly).
> 
> It simply would put yet another fic at "I can be saved if someone loves me" and even though I do know this is not true it often feels like it. So I will not promote this further. There will be love, platonic love betweeen these two but that is it. 
> 
> Trigger warning for heavy smoking mentioned

The ashtray looked used, ash had gathered on every corner and a good amount of cigarette studs were nestled in it, someone should probably empty it soon or else it would overflow and the mess that were then to be cleaned up probably is not worth it.   
The package of tobacco that lies next to it, gives away what kind of cigarettes the man had been smoking as of late. He did not seem to fancy industrial ones and preferred to make them himself. If he had to pester his lungs, it had to be on himself after all.

Tony had not notices Pepper coming up close to him, he had just put yet another rolled-up cigarette between his lips and was currently lighting it up with his green lighter. A colour that did not really match him as red and gold seemed to have become his over the past years, yet he adored green very much, thank you. He inhaled to make it light up properly and blew the first breath out without inhaling first, he did not want to smoke the paper after all, the taste would linger far too long and it really was not a pleasant one. The man seemed deep in thoughts, given by his reaction when she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes trailing over the arm.  
He worse a short sleeved shirt, the bandage around his wrist obvious and out in the open but seeing bandages or band aids on him was not an unfamiliar sight, only this time it was because of something much darker. 

Tony´s head spun around immediately and he sighed, “God, Pepper- You startled me there.” His voice was nothing above a mumble and he turned his attention back to the cigarette, inhaling deeply and keeping the smoke in his longs for a bit, not long enough to make him cough though and then he exhaled it again.   
“This is not good for you,” he stated promptly and gently squeezed his shoulder, “and you know it.”  
She, of course like most times, was not exactly wrong about it. Even if you would extract the fact that cigarettes had more than seventy potential ingredients that could cause cancer and that it could lead to addicted there always were Tony´s fucked up lungs and heart as well. 

Sure, the arc reactor was out of his chest and the operation had went better than expected but no matter how good the surgeons had been they had not been able to aid to damage that had already been done years ago, leaving his heart rather week and his lungs not the most functional, so smoking really was not the key to health. It never was of course. 

“I know.” He admitted but none the less took yet another drag. “I´ve considered seeing the consouler you told me about, but I don´t feel comfortable with that.”   
That right there was a lot of honesty from Tony and Pepper had to give him credit for speaking straight and not talking around it like he was far too skilled at. Yet the premise of these words was not good and she let out a heavy sigh. “Oh Tony,” she shock her head and gave his shoulder yet another squeeze.   
“I am worried about you and you know it, they could at least help a little..” 

But maybe Tony did not want help, maybe he felt like he did not deserve it. They stayed silent all the while he finished his smoke, thoughts in his head racing despite the calming effect of the cigarette.

Once he was done and reaching to prepare another she took hold of his hand. “I care about you Tony, please at least try it. You need someone to talk to, someone professional.” No matter how much she would have liked to help her best friend, she was no trained professional, she could not get over what she had witnessed merely twenty-four hours ago. But she cared far too much about him to let him to it again. “I love you, Tony. Please.”  
And even if both of them knew it was only said in a platonic way by now (neither of them wanted it any other way they functioned best as friends anyway) he could not seem but to choke up.  
And just like ash in the wind he seemed to falter and all his thoughts seemed to wither away and he gave a small nod to her in response.   
He would try to get better and maybe, only maybe it really would get him somewhere better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment - it means a lot. You can Always suggest Things too!
> 
> Go find me on Tumblr,   
> DarkGalaxyWarlock


	6. The path of recovery is long and littered with stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay-   
> As always mind the trigger warnings and please do not read it if it makes you feel bad.  
> If you ever Need someone to talk to- I am here. I will listen.  
> Stay safe.

Two weeks could be assumed to be a long time, yet in recovery two weeks were hardly anything to work with. And Tony hardly even considered himself to be in a phase of so called recovery. But Pepper called it like that and he had to sit in the common room for at least an hour a day and was no longer than the same amount of time allowed in the workshop. As much as the second part sucked, he was sort of glad about it. Sure it gave him more time to think, time to think about not too pleasant things but it also gave him the time to think about something else than his compulsive need to brush his thoughts and needs away by work, especially over-working.   
But he accepted her care because really, there was no other way around it and for the most part of these two weeks he had been good. He ate lunch with the team, spent a bit of TV time with them and otherwise tried to stay out of the workshop as much as he could. It was not always easy but for fifteen days he managed to.

It was only on the sixteenth day where he started to slack. He skipped breakfast, lunch and dinner, pumped himself full of caffeine and spent the whole night in the workshop. And he was especially sneaky about it. Tony had waited until everyone had gone to bed and checked twice if the tower was silent and beside a sleep-deprived Clint he had found no one and promptly went into his beloved safe space. The workshop.  
He had cleaned up in there after the incident and was almost surprised to find the cup of coffee on the table. He set the cup he had brought with him down next to it and sat down, taking the note that was attached to the cup and silently read through the short piece of paper: ´In case you need this. - Pepper.´   
The coffee was cold and looked to be that way for the past few hours. She had probably left it there in a nice thought, a kind gesture because she knew that he still sometimes came down here. 

A bitter laugh passed his throat as a even more bitter smile made its way on his lips. He did not know why but it made him feel sick to his stomach, made him feel so wrong and bad. 

Of course Pepper would know, she always knew if there was something wrong inside himself and the gesture, albeit nice, didn't make him feel better this time. This time his mind took the meaning of the actually nice gesture to a much darker place. Soon replacing all his god thoughts, those he desperately tried to hang on, with thoughts that were not as pleasant. Overwriting his brain like Jarvis would overwrite a file, in the matter of mere seconds.

He sank to his knees and stayed there, scratching at his arms until the blood was spilling again, tears he didn't feel, streaming down his face until- wait. Those were not tears, he was unusually calm. The blood was warm and trickled down his face, he had scratched his cheek bad enough to make it bleed. He could wear long sleeved shirts to hide his arms but there was no piece of clothing, no make up that could solve the problem right here and there. Everyone who would face him could see the damage he had done to himself clearly and without doubt.

With a dry laugh he got up again, downed both cups of coffee, he was already feeling dizzy from all the caffeine he had consumed that day but he didn't care, neither did he care about the way it tasted, cold and stale and simply gross. But to him coffee had long ceased being a pleasure to consume, it was a way to busy himself and sometimes he craved the addiction. He craved the feeling of being addicted to something and that was why he drank so much, to punish himself with withdraw later. Sick and wrong, but what about him was not?

It was the same with the cigarettes, yes they made him calmer and think more clearly but in the end it was the addiction he craved, the dizziness after smoking too much even if that occurred less and less, it only made him want to smoke more and more and more and- his thoughts came to a halt all of sudden, he was not certain why and it was like a switch had been flipped inside his brain and he got up, cleaned his wounds, washed his face and took the empty cups to the dishwasher before laying down. Recovery was hard and not every day was a good one but he always had tomorrow to start again. Tony dragged himself to his bed, he should sleep. Even if he had been sleeping more lately he always felt so tired, much more so than when he had not been sleeping properly. It seemed like all those sleepless nights were finally catching up to the man.  
He did not complain, it was nice to pass the time and not think too much. Thinking was the dead of him after all.  
Days clean? Zero. But he had made it through fifteen before, he could make it through some more until one day he would not feel wrong and broken. One day.  
With a smile on his lips he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, thank you for reading this please leave your opinion! (constructive critism is aways welcome)
> 
>  
> 
> Go find me on tumbr: GabrielSammysAngel


End file.
